


never again

by SoaringJe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Narcissa POV, Narcissa-centric, Self-Harm, dubiously-loyal Bellatrix the Death Eater, weaves through canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-10 18:51:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20856575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoaringJe/pseuds/SoaringJe
Summary: “Cissy, what did youdo?”How strange, hearing horror in her voice. Narcissa was numb, but a part of her found the energy to berate herself. Of course Bella found out.(Prompt: shaky hands)





	never again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DisasterLesbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisasterLesbean/gifts).

> intentional lack of capitalization. some invisitext present. Warnings for blood and self-harm.

“Cissy, what did you _do?”_ How strange, hearing horror in her voice. Narcissa was numb, but a part of her found the energy to berate herself. Of course Bella found out.

she had been so careful not to scream.

Her sister’s eyes tracked what had been hidden. 

they were motivation.

Bella lingered.

had she seen it break? watched as crimson bloomed around bone?

Shame welled up at her sister’s distress. She had never meant to go this far.

It was just—

She saw it. She saw it in her classmates, in the clashes, in the huddles, in the hushed conversations. She saw it in her parents as they entertained guests with tea in hand and wands in reach. She saw it in her sisters as they shooed her away, always sheltering, always protecting her.

War was coming.

She knew what she was supposed to do.

she also knew she couldn’t.

She couldn’t just do _nothing._

The realization echoed in her head, bouncing around unimpeded as her thoughts stalled completely.

Yet she was frozen.

A wand raised.

_No._ “Bella, don’t—”

“There.” Her teeth gleamed.

“Bella, you could _die._” Why wasn’t she moving. Why wasn’t she getting help. Why was she just _staring_ as blood—too much blood—ran down pale skin and spattered the floor. 

why did her magic itch to _fix it._

“You’ll fix me, won’t you, Cissy?” Bella was just so _earnest,_ eyes open and so full of love—she couldn’t—

Her hands were shaking. They hadn’t done that since she was still a stranger to the sting of pain and the weeping of wounds.

It was different.

This was her _sister._ She couldn’t afford to—

“I believe in you.”

The skin stitched together at her spell. It didn’t even leave a scar.

not a physical one.

She barely heard her wand as it slipped from numb fingers. She was shaking, trembling like a leaf even as Bella gathered her up in her arms. 

Her sister hushed her sweetly, murmuring words she couldn’t hear until she was still. “See?” cooed Bella eventually, “you can practice on me.” The embrace tightened, muscles tensing momentarily before Bella leaned back to look into her eyes. “So this?” her fingers ghosted over her scars so gently, “no more of this, Cissy.” The recently-healed wounds burned. She hadn’t cleaned up their blood. “Never this.”

She couldn’t push the words past her throat. It wasn’t—she didn’t do this to _hurt_ herself. She knew she couldn’t fight, but she could _heal,_ could learn. She just had no one to practice on: Pomfrey wouldn’t have allowed her the training she needed; neither would her family. They always tried so hard to _protect_ her, but she couldn’t— 

It was fine, in the beginning. She started small: nicks that could be explained as clumsiness, then bruises hidden beneath clothes. And then larger cuts.

And she kept going.

Andromeda noticed, but she hadn’t pried.

it was rarely andy who pushed first.

how different would their lives have been had this been an exception. 

It was fine, in the beginning.

She wasn’t sure it was _still_ fine. 

it wasn’t.

Especially not with her sister’s nearly-black eyes peering at her with poorly-veiled concern. Her sister shouldered enough burdens.

Cissa never meant to add another.

* * *

Their family was still neutral, but there was _pressure_ to _pick one._

A part of Cissa wished that was enough.

But her sister couldn’t just stand by and do nothing: she _fought,_ not for any side, not yet, but for her few people. 

It was just skirmishes.

Bella would show up after, and Cissa would heal her.

they never told andy. 

she didn’t want to burden her. 

not her too.

It was fine.

but all it takes is once.

“Bella, Bella, I can’t—”

She coughed and her gleaming teeth were stained red. 

Cissa felt cold as spell after spell told her what she had realized endless eternities ago.

She couldn’t fix this.

_she couldn’t—_

She doesn’t know why she went to him. 

she knew. she always knew. 

she was too much of a coward to tell anyone else. she told him because he could save Bella and _she could get away with it._

He took her sister, then.

In many ways, she never truly returned.

There was something _missing_ from her after that. 

from them both.

he didn’t fix her.

but she was alive. 

that was more than _she_ could do. 

it was worse than she could ever stand to.

_I did this,_ she swallowed, silent as she should have been. She let this all happen. Her sister had _trusted_ her and she couldn’t—

she failed.

With their eldest having chosen, the Blacks were neutral no more.

She lost Andromeda soon after.

she deserved it.

she lost herself.

She supported but never acted. 

they called her ice queen.

No one looked to her, relied on her.

she would destroy them.

And then she held her precious baby boy.

she breathed. felt her heart beat. she was warm.

she had forgotten.

* * *

He was back. _War_ was back.

Lucius lost his temper.

Her hands shook as she healed his bruises.

_Never again._

And then Draco was in danger.

_I can’t—_

* * *

“_You. Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead._”

Why _her?_

She went, even without having to be prodded by the sister-who-was <strike>the slave-who-is.</strike>

Leaves crunched underfoot.

she remembered the sounds of bones breaking. but nothing burst forth in a shower of crimson.

The crumpled figure was so still.

So small.

He was just a boy. 

Her hands did not shake, even as her breathing quickened.

_Thump-thump thump-thump._

He was alive.

"_Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?_"

He was so still.

The smallest of nods sparked a fire.

She could fix this.

she could save someone.

She breathed.

“_He is dead!_” she called.

Cheers, stomps, and spells rang out.

Cissa was deaf to it all.

Her mind was too full.

In a baby’s grey eyes, she saw near-black.

_“I believe in you.”_

_I won’t fail you too._

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by Dovey's [Dangerous Habits (Dangerous Girl)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739421/chapters/31569345)
> 
> Got the idea a year ago, finally fleshed it out a bit today for Whumptober 2019. first draft happened to be near 1000 words, so i challenged myself to keep it at that word count.


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